


76 shades of death

by piss



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (not trans), Angst, Identity Issues, M/M, Unreality?, alter ego, but they fuck in the end, dominant gabi, read the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:22:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6997636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piss/pseuds/piss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>aka 76 shades of what the fuck<br/>everytime i was writing this fic i just wanted to go the fuck to sleep hoo boy</p><p>coincidentally this fic killed me but i also couldnt stop writing lm ao prepaer ur ass for full on emo</p>
    </blockquote>





	76 shades of death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [this god damn piece of crap wont let me gift it again but u know who u are](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=this+god+damn+piece+of+crap+wont+let+me+gift+it+again+but+u+know+who+u+are).



> aka 76 shades of what the fuck  
> everytime i was writing this fic i just wanted to go the fuck to sleep hoo boy
> 
> coincidentally this fic killed me but i also couldnt stop writing lm ao prepaer ur ass for full on emo

Everyday he wonders why he accepted. Why did he go back to the very thing that destroyed him. 

On the battlefield he doesn't think, he just does. Driven by instinct and old habits he shoots and kicks and knocks out everyone unfortunate to come in his path. 

Tracer's cheerful tone comes through announcing the stairway is clear, leaving his ear ringing along with the static. These cheap pieces of crap break from a flimsy touch and as Soldier 76 slams another one of Talon's pawns into the wall he decides he'll bug Winston for better equipment later. He sprints along the hallway and up the stairs, slamming the rooftop door open and rolling behind one of the fans. 

It's quiet.

Soldier 76 turns his head from left to right looking for the shadows the scorching sun would make sure to heighten. The rooftop isn't very big and he cannot hear anything thanks to the sound of the blaring fan. Maybe this was a farce, an old Winston picking wrong sources just as he made sure to pick the worst ear pieces. You've had it worse Soldier.

He's in the process of getting up and sprinting towards the fan on the other side, take a peak at the area, when a shadow befalls him. A quick leap into the open and not 5 steps later he hears a shotgun go off. His feet carry him to the right side of the rooftop where another good old fan serves as cover. The fan is placed close to the fence which means Soldier has better vision but were there two assailants he'd be trapped, sandwiched between death. He didn't see anybody then and neither does he now. He's ready to sprint again when a shadow obscures his vision. Soldier's head is slammed into the metal behind him and the shadow disappears as fast as it came. 

It's surreal really. There are no footsteps and last time Soldier checked he could hear fine. Actually he could hear and see more than fine so how in the fuck didn't he catch a glimpse of the shadow's owner? It felt like a ghost, if ghosts wore steel platform boots. 

Soldier spreads his legs into a wide crouch and holds his gun tight, finger on the trigger. Whoever his attacker was one thing was clear: he had to be on the move. This time the shadow comes from his left. Soldier rolls in the opposite direction, bullets spraying immediately with no target to hit and in the next second a hand is on his nape holding tight. The fingers reach his throat and with a grunt they sink in. Soldier's eyes roam down and with a grunt of his own he realises they're talons.

"Your gun."

"Pretty big, isn't it?"

Soldier's snicker cuts short as he feels the hand tensing. The man's deep voice is latched with anger. "Drop it." Soldier does and the gun is kicked away as soon as it hits the ground. 

He's spun around coming face to face with someone that looks like a comic book character. If he's supposed to be Death or a pestering little crow Soldier can't tell but what he can tell is that pair of shotguns looked nice and in reach.

"Don't think of it. Guns don't work on me."

"Did you kick mine away just for the show?"

The man let's out a laugh, whole body shaking. It's a stuttering and broken laugh and it looks like he's heaving. "Your petty comebacks are as bad as I remember, Jack." Soldier freezes, his body and mind both going rigid only awakened by the contact between his lower back and the fence. Immediately any emotion rushes out as he realises the position he's in. This weird fuck has him leaning 200 metres above ground. He tries to anchor his feet, hook them in the little space between the bars but it's too narrow.

"You understand don't you? You're in no position to be making jokes."

And he's right. The only thing that anchors him is this man's hand around his throat. Soldier stills his body. There's a balcony three floors lower to which he could manuvoeur to but he can't afford to waste time climbing up here again. He's sure by now that the civilians have been escorted but this piece of Intel is too valuable to lose. He can feel the fence shaking as the man above leans down way too close. Their masks are scraping against each other and his right hand starts tracing lines from his shoulder to his hand, retreating back and going down his chest as if he was trying to memorise or perhaps remember every crook and dip. Soldier didn't want to think about how well that hand moulded against his body almost like - no.

The man let out a happy grunt stopping his exploration and Soldier braced himself for the flight only to be left confused and unsure. The body above became glued to his own, chest against chest and mask against mask. Was this pity, a goodbye? His thoughts were spiraling trying to understand. He was pulled up with a muttered 'I'll wait.' before the man dispersed into smoke. Soldier won't question it, he won't even think about it ever again. 

The Intel was favourably placed in the middle of the landing mark. He grabbed it and never looked back.

Tracer's voice came right through interrupting his question. "We had to switch places, too many coppers outside." Sometimes excited and justice driven Tracer sounded like a God damn con artist but this was another thing Soldier didn't want to think about. He made his way to the rendezvous location. Seems multi million dollar companies didn't prioritise giving the full building plans to authorities so finding an exit the cops didn't know about was quite helpful. 

Tracer's blinking body met Soldier as soon as he stepped inside. "Oh love I thought you wouldn't make - oof! You smell awful!"

"Thanks." Rolling through waves of Talon's acolytes didn't exactly leave you smelling like roses and Soldier was ready to sleep it off, maybe take a shower if the water didn't take one year to warm. He passed the suitcase to Winston and the three of them headed of like a mostly happy illegal organisation.

 

The abandoned building they called a temporary base smelled like piss and fire but it did its job. Winston began his usual monologue, explaining things he already explained. Tracer listened to a point before growing tired, urging Winston to just open up the suitcase. 

"Is this...?"

"A piñata! Ohh ohh maybe it's full of peanut butter or even better, money!"

"What?"

"I've been on holiday around here a few times. People carry a huge amount of money in these things! Isn't it exciting?"

Winston's surprised expression didn't deter Tracer and Soldier deemed it safe to take his leave. With heavy footsteps he made his way towards to his temporary room. He liked to switch rooms as much as Tracer liked to wake him up in the middle of the night talking about her dreams and Overwatch. Sometimes, he'd grunt along.

His mask was the first to go, being thrown on the makeshift bed. The smell hit him immediately. It smelled of blood, death and

And Gabriel Reyes.

Impossible. The altercation he vowed to stack far away in his mind came rushing back. Every step, every shadow, every word and every touch. Hollow and full. 

He was dead and he made sure of that. There wasn't a body found but the explosion was big enough and he was close enough and this - this was impossible. Yet that man knew. The way he muttered his name and every touch ignited the memories of a happier time. 

That was not Gabriel Reyes. That Gabriel Reyes died there and so did that Jack Morrison, leaving rotting vessels.

Was he real or a hate conditioned machine? 'Jack' could find out and that's what scared him. 'Gabriel' was waiting because he knew Jack would come. 

His grave might have fooled people just as Soldier's mask fooled him. Soldier 76 was a way for a purpose, he was strong and focused and stable. That Jack died but this one still had emotions, his memories and a yearning for the past. He knew this, this God damn Gabriel knew this and he came home carrying his own unbinding signed and stamped by Death itself. 

The water wasn't warm but he didn't notice. In the middle of the night he left, mask tucked in his jacket. His last defence.

The town was alive but Jack felt like he was walking towards his own death. A joyful walk of two steps at a time stopping before the rooftop door to put Soldier's mask on. 

The sky was littered with stars. "You've waited."

This high the neon signs didn't obscure it. "I told you I will."

His knees buckled. Soldier wasn't here.

"Ever thought of dying your hair? Purple's trending among grandmas." 

"I'll do it if you'd be so kind as to refer me to your hairdresser." 

"It'd contrast nicely, wouldn't it? When you're whiter than a commercial T-shirt everything does. "

"You said my jokes were bad."

"I suppose I caught your bad habit."

What was he supposed to say? This whole situation was uncomfortable. It felt fake, directed by a skilful artist. He wanted to run but his feet wouldn't stray. 

"I wasn't joking. They did this to me. YOU did this to me."

He didn't. It wasn't Jack's fault. He never chose to be a leader, he never chose having his hands stained by his failure of responsibility.

"You'll look at me." In the next moment Gabriel was up in his face, unlatching the mask who protested against his tightly clasped fingers. He was pale, too pale. His skin didn't seem to have any pigmentation neither did his eyes. They seemed bright even in the moonlight.

"Are you disgusted? Your abilities were heightened. Your sight, your hearing, your reflexes. I became a living cancer. My cells are decaying and reforming faster than I can count. Sometimes I feel like I can see my old self but it's gone as fast as it comes."

…

"Are. You. Disgusted?!"

"Never."

"Then touch me." It sounds so broken, a plea. And it breaks whatever is left of Jack's heart. His hand plies against Gabriel's cheek and his eyes close before snapping back open. He grabs Jack's hand with such force Jack thinks he'll break it but instead he rips off the glove throwing it as far as it goes and bringing his hand back to its initial place.

"Now I'll look at you." And Jack can't deny him. Not because he feels guilty, he does, but because denying Gabriel was something he could never do. It doesn't matter which Gabriel this is. The mask makes a hard thud upon impact and he's scared.

Gabriel's hand comes to rest on his cheeks, Jack notices his glove but remains silent. 

"Soldier 76 sounds like shit."

"What do you call Him then?"

"Reaper."

"That's worse."

"Fuck you."

Jack can't take it anymore. This is too much like the past, useless bickering and young romance between shifts. He brings his other hand to his mouth and drags the glove off with his teeth. The hand comes to rest on Gabriel's waist and that's the confirmation they both needed.

Gabriel moves touching every spot he can, he pushes Jack back and drags him forward not because he's unsure but alike the hand on his throat he's still in control. He's the anchor and Jack let's it sink in as he sinks to the ground. Gabriel has his gloves on but his talons are nowhere to be seen. That doesn't stop him from ripping Jack's jacket apart. the T-shirt and trousers he takes off.

Jack's on his knees waiting, among the howling pain he feels excitement dripping in and Gabriel's hand comes to rest up on one of his cheeks. He grunts and pushes back, he wants this. 

The fingers circling his entrance stop and he's flipped so he faces Gabriel. They return slicked and one pushes in.

"You brought lube."

"I didn't come here to destroy your ass beyond repair."

It's tight and Gabriel wonders how many times Jack let somebody else do this to him, if ever. A spark of satisfaction lights up inside and for the first time he feels at peace. There is no Talon and no Overwatch and it feels like nothing has changed. No matter how much time has passed or how many scars he's gotten, this was the Jack he knows. Face glistening with sweat and blue eyes fixed on him.

"How long you gonna keep me waiting? Harder!"

Gabriel pushes another finger in. In and out, each time deeper and faster. Jack's feet clutch against his back trying to pull him closer and urge him to just fucking shove those damn dexterous fingers against his prostate. Gabriel slaps him on his thigh with a mocking "Patience." and Jack responds by lightly jamming his right foot into his back. 

His fingers feel nice but it's not even close to what they both wish for. If Gabriel wants to be a tease so will he. Jack's hands come up to his jacket, pulling the zipper slowly. He tugs at his collar and turns his head to the right, exposing his neck and watching the man above carefully. Gabriel's eyes are heated and when his gaze lands on the exposed area his fingers stutter. The older man let's out a laugh taking off his jacket entirely and letting his hands roam around his abdomen stopping to play with the hem of his shirt from time to time. Gabriel's fingers have stopped entirely at this point. He's breathing hard and tries his hardest not to show it. His whole being can only see Jack.

It's instant. The moment Jack yanks his shirt up Gabriel's fingers spread as far as they can go and as his mouth attaches itself to the skin below they come together and trust deep and hard, curling right into his prostate. Jack screams so loud he's sure anyone down there heard it. Gabriel's fingers never stop, they hit their mark every time and he's a trembling screaming mess. His legs tighten and lessen their grip, much alike his hands. He doesn't know what to do with them and Gabriel takes care of that for him. Jack's hands are held above his head and somewhere in his hazy mind he realises his shirt is gone. He's completely naked and he doesn't give a shit. To be honest he doesn't even remember when his pants and underwear disappeared. He doesn't care either as long as Gabriel never stops.

"Fuck! Yes, yes! Fuck you! Yes!"

He might regret it later, how desperate he sounds but it's been too long.

"You god damn fucker, keep going!"

"Getting close, old man?" His voice is muffled, continuing to kiss and suck at his stomach and chest.

Jack doesn't reply but his grunts and moans suffice. He's thrusting back, riding those three fingers. 'When did the third push in?' And he's close, upper body lifting into Gabriel's mouth.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck ooo- 

"YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

Jack's orgasm fades away painfully and he's still thrusting up trying to get some friction. "You god damn filthy fucking wh-"

"Easy." The other man cuts him off. He unfastens his belt and pulls his cock out. It's thick and heavy and Jack would wrap his lips around it in a heartbeat if he wasn't being held down.

"You want this don't you?"

"Cut the crap."

He pours a good amount of lube and strokes himself. Jack's entrance twitches every time he circles it. "Beg for it." It's silent for a bit apart from Jack's fingernails scraping the floor, whole body trembling.

"Fucking shit! I swear to every fucking god if you don't fuck me right now you won't get to do it again because I'll rip your dick off along with your dignity."

"Charming but you do need to work on your dirty talk." 

As Gabriel pushes in Jack feels his eyes roll to the back of his head. He needed this, he wanted this and denied it for so long. He's full and he'll if it doesn't feel good. They stay like this for a few seconds then Jack starts to roll his hips. 

Every sound Jack makes fuels his desire. With his eyes closed, brows furrowed, mouth agape, fuck this man is perfect.

The hot puff of breath on his face makes Jack open his eyes. Gabriel's smiling, a genuine one with no ill intention or hidden meaning. His half lidded eyes seem happy and it's like they're young again. Their mouths meet and it's fierce, primal yet romantic. Between the clash of lips and tongues they break apart and peck or slow down their kiss before picking up again.

Gabriel's hands on his ass, leaving imprints is everything he wanted and this feels so good he has to let it out. Praises are spit between 'Ohhhhh's and 'Mmmmmh's and they're like music to Gabriel's ears.

"You're such a good boy, Jack. You want to come don't you?"

"God yes! Fuck me harder you weak bastard! You feel so ducking good. God damn, harder!"

He's stuck on the verge. One more push but he doesn't want to touch himself. He wants to come just from this. He needs it harder, faster, anything, anything at all!

"You'll come from me. Now."

And Jack does. Wave after wave and it feels like it's not going to stop. His whole body is clenching and he feels Gabriel's hot cum shoot deep in his ass. 

"Yeahhh, that's it. Good boy, fuck Jack you're amazing."

At some point they stop. Body collapsed together in a heap. They say nothing and Jack is scared but the kisses Gabriel leaves on his lips, cheeks, neck and everywhere he can reach serve as comfort, as a promise.

Everyday he wondered why he accepted. Why did he go back to the very thing that destroyed him. 

Now he knows.

**Author's Note:**

> i bet tracer vapes


End file.
